


Gravid Girl

by SonjaJade



Series: The Rook and the Bluebird [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Lolicon, Pre-Series, Swindlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: Braeda's beginnings were unexpected, as his mother was a child of only thirteen when she became pregnant with him.  Several years later, a similar fate befalls his own daughter and first grandchild.  Looking back on how his mother managed, he finds inspiration from his grandmother, and passes it on to his granddaughter- by giving her a namesake.





	

Lydia Braeda sat next to her laboring daughter’s bed, crocheting the last bits of a baby blanket she’d been putting off for weeks. But with the breaking of Ida’s waters on New Year’s Eve morning, the time for putting off the edging was over. Her grandchild would be here soon, and the poor thing would need a blanket- bastard or not.  
  
A doctor had come and checked on Ida once Lydia helped her into bed. He’d told her exactly what to do, how often to check her to be sure labor was progressing normally, what to do if it wasn’t or if she saw tiny feet coming down instead of the baby’s head.  
  
As for Ida herself, so far she hadn’t yelped or groaned once. The only indication of her pain was the grimace scrunching up her fourteen-year-old face and the forced deep breathing.  
  
“You don’t get a medal for not screaming,” Lydia said quietly. “I know it hurts, honey. Let it out.”  
  
Ida shook her head, gripping one of the rails on her brass headboard until her knuckles turned white, riding out a contraction to the end. When she could relax a bit and gather her breath to speak, she panted, “It’s my punishment to bear. My biggest screw up was believing that dang ol’ Jakob, and trying to pretend I was more grown up than I really am. I can at least take this punishment without wailing like a child.”  
  
Lydia frowned as she continued to create the trim for the light green blanket. “It’s just as much my fault, Ida. I should’ve told you about how babies were made when your menses came. You didn’t know, and it’s because of me.”  
  
Oh, Lydia knew her daughter had eyes for the handsome young fellow who came to Tin Town peddling vacuum cleaners. But she didn’t know until afterward that he’d been slipping into the shed out back and peddling something else to Ida. By the time Ida mentioned feeling really strange and having missed a period, it was too late. The young man with the dark red hair and the strong jaw line was gone- no phone number or forwarding address.  
  
Lydia saw him once afterward, changing trains at the station and buying a newspaper to read. She scrawled a note to him and dropped it on top of the paper he was reading. It said he wasn’t welcome in Tin Town, that Ida never wanted to see him again, and that if he ever darkened the Braeda family’s door, he’d be shot on sight. She watched him swallow hard, meet her gaze, and nod once. Ever since then, Jakob Heyman became a bad memory that they rarely spoke of.  
  
Lydia looked at the clock. Laying the blanket aside, she rose to her feet. “Time to check you, sweetie.” She pulled the bed sheets and all back, then peered between her daughter’s legs.  
  
The baby was crowning, and Ida had still yet to cry out in pain. Lydia whipped the blankets completely off the bed and pushed her sleeves back. “Ida, you need to push the next time you get the urge!”  
  
“Yes, ma’am!” she gasped as Lydia placed her feet just so on the bed.  
  
Ida’s lower body flexed with the effort of her pushing, and the baby’s head became more visible. “You’re doing great, sweetheart! Take a breath and bear down again!” She grabbed a clean towel from Ida’s bureau and readied herself to grab the child.  
  
At last, her daughter began to wail with her pains. “Momma, I can’t! I can’t take it, it hurts too much!”  
  
“It’s almost over, one more good push and its head will be out. Then the shoulders and it’ll all be over, you can’t give up yet!” She swatted Ida’s calf. “You stop pushing and this child dies!”  
  
Ida sat up, grabbed her knees, and gritted her teeth. Slowly, the bright red headed baby came down from its mother, head popping free and the shoulders following directly after. Lydia grabbed the child, gently tugging the rest of the body out.  
  
“It’s a boy!” she called out. She lightly pinched his thigh and bottom to stimulate him to cry. A healthy wail rang out in Ida’s bedroom, and both mother and daughter began to cry tears of relief. The baby was fine, and Ida seemed to be doing alright as well.  
  
Lydia wiped at the boy with a warm wash cloth, particularly around his face and ears, looking at the bright copper wisps of hair that dusted his skull. He looked just like his father. That didn’t really bother Lydia, though. He was a handsome (if not stupid and irresponsible) man. Once Ida delivered the placenta, Lydia tightly tied off the umbilical cord with some bits of twine, then cut it and presented Ida her son.  
  
“I can’t believe he’s here,” she whispered, holding him closely and kissing his forehead. “He’s so little!”  
  
Lydia sat down beside her in the bed, her arm coming around her little girl’s shoulders. “He’s a pretty baby, Ida. I wish your daddy was here to see him…”  
  
Ida scoffed. “I wish his daddy was here to see him!”  
  
Lydia smoothed her daughter’s hair back from her face. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll raise this boy up good and right, that way he won’t turn into the man his father turned out to be.”  
  
Lydia went on to teach her daughter how to feed the baby, helped get him latched on to her still small breast, helped her change his first diaper, and put them both to sleep after changing the sheets and packing Ida’s bloomers with rags. She watched them slumbering, finding it surreal that she was a grandmother at thirty one.  
  
She stroked the baby’s red hair. “I’m sure your daddy would be happy to see you,” she murmured. “But he did a bad thing to your momma, putting you inside her when she was just a child herself. I don’t want him getting near any other children, including his own.” The babe yawned and Lydia couldn’t help a grin.  
  
“I wonder what she’s gonna name you, little one.” She laid the unfinished blanket over him and left the subject of his naming for in the morning.  
  
On New Year’s Day, Ida named him Heymans, explaining to her mother that should Jakob ever try to deny his son, there would be no question if his name was the same. She had him baptized with the name Roger, but insisted on calling him Hey. Lydia never questioned her decision- the poor boy was going to be bullied and teased, no matter what. She only concentrated on loving her grandson as much as she could.

* * *

  
Many years later, Heymans Braeda reached out to hold a grandchild of his own. His youngest daughter, Margie, birthed him a granddaughter in the wee hours of the morning on All Souls Day. Unfortunately, the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy had been much the same for Margie as his mother Ida’s had been. Thank goodness she wasn’t as young as her grandmother had been when she came with child- Margie was considered an adult at least- but she’d been bewitched by a man who was already married, was promising to marry Margie as soon as the divorce was final. Instead, he took a one way train out east and all of Margie’s university savings when he left. Catalina’s informants were looking for him, and she promised Braeda they’d get the money back, and revenge for what the man had done to Margie.  
  
“What are you going to call her, honey?” he asked as Maria fawned over the little girl in her arms.  
  
Margie shook her head, exhausted from the delivery. “I’ve been scratching my head over that one, Dad. I’ve been through a dozen baby names and nothing sounds good to me. You guys named us pretty well, why don’t you name her.”  
  
Braeda worried about Margie, then. Did she have the baby blues already? Maybe she was just tired… Maybe she was frustrated and just couldn’t wrap her head around it all yet. “Margie, she’s your baby. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You have a few days to decide.”  
  
“Give me some suggestions, then,” she murmured.  
  
Maria gave her at least thirty different monikers, none of which Margie liked. “Well,” she sighed, handing the swaddled infant to Braeda. “Looks like it’s your turn, Gramps. See if you can pick her out a good name.”  
  
She was a healthy little girl, not too big and definitely not too small. Fine blonde hairs topped her head, and her full little lips moved in her sleep. Her fingers curled around his pinkie and he smiled down at her. “What about Jeanne?”  
  
Margie grumbled that it was too close to Uncle Jean’s name. She didn’t like Elaine or Rita, Zoey or Delores, or even Sarah.  
  
“Well, what about Lydia?”  
  
Margie looked up at him. “Your Granny’s name?”  
  
He shrugged. “You haven’t liked anything else, just a shot in the dark.”  
  
She repeated it over and over to herself. “Lydia, ‘Little Lydia’-” She grinned at him. “‘Itty Bitty Lydie’, I kinda like that!” She reached out for her daughter, then gazed at her tiny sleeping face. She stroked her cheek gently with her finger. “Lydia Braeda has a wonderful ring to it.”  
  
‘Gramps’ thought so, too.


End file.
